


Spotlight

by Dame_Syrup (mary_pseud)



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/M, Kinkmeme, Public Sex, Sex with a stranger, Voyeurism, condom use, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 18:17:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14899565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mary_pseud/pseuds/Dame_Syrup
Summary: For a kinkmeme prompt: Donna/Ianto; I don't even need a kink, I just want to see this pairing.





	Spotlight

Donna Noble had discovered a sudden new passion for making coffee. That is, to control the making of her beverages from beginning to end, stem to stern. It was paranoia, perhaps, brought on by the courting of her late fiancé, Lance.  
  
Most guys just rolled their eyes when she started going on about filter papers and grinding screens, but this one looked fascinated.  
  
"Hey," she said, half-shouting to be heard over the racket of the truly awful band at the far end of the smoky bar, "hey, how d'you know all about this sort of thing?" She'd had a few drinks (straight water served from the bottle, but spiked with the bottle of vodka in her purse), and her toes were tingling and her eyes were bright, and this Ianto looked entirely edible to her intoxicated state. Very pale, with cheeks you just wanted to pinch, well-displayed in tight slacks. Not her usual type at all, but – he was glib and pretty and here, and what more could a woman want, really?  
  
Lots of things, a part of her mind insisted. Adventure, travel, romance-  
  
Little steps, she told herself. Little adventures first. Like picking up a handsome stranger at a bar, and having her way with him – her way, she'd be on top. Kinky stuff like that. She could see herself grinding down on him now, sweat gleaming on that beautiful skin, as she-  
  
She was smiling and murmuring some of this to her new companion. She reached out and fingered his long dark-red tie, wondering if he would be long and smooth under her hand as well. But Ianto was leaning forward, and saying something too softly in her ear.   
  
She shook her head, watching her red hair fly and hearing her earring jangle. "What?"  
  
"I said," Ianto leaned closer, close enough for his lips to tickle her ear, "that if you wanted to get kinky, and have a real adventure, you should have a safety line."  
  
Donna went cold, but at the same time felt new heat between her legs. Real adventure, safety line – there was something deadly serious in Ianto's eyes, and passionately aroused as well.  
  
"What sort'a safety line?" she asked.  
  
Ianto smiled, reached into his jacket and produced a passport. "Here," he said, holding it up next to his face, letting her see that the pictures matched. "Now you know my name and address. Call someone, leave a message that you're going off with a handsome stranger and if you don't come home in the morning they should ring up the police. Safety line."  
  
He tucked the passport back in his jacket, and stood up just a little too slowly, letting her see how his erection swelled against the fabric of his slacks. Slowly, he edged around the side of the table, politely avoiding the other people talking and drinking and paying them no mind, until his erection was pulsing hard against her shoulder.  
  
Donna was shocked. It was so obscene, so dirty, him being so aroused – but nobody had noticed but her.  
  
He leaned over. "I'll wait outside," he whispered. "Five minutes. If you're not there, I'll be gone."  
  
He slowly rubbed himself across his shoulder blades and then he was off, moving through the crowd. Donna's hand leapt to her mobile and she scrolled through he contacts, cursing to herself. No, no, certainly not...and then the perfect name came floating up under her fingers.  
  
She giggled and dialled and left her message and was outside with her hair full of smoke and her knees shaking in three minutes.  
  
Ianto smiled at her, white face hovering like a little cloud in the gloom. He took her hand and whispered, "This way!" and they slipped down the street, giggling, skipping like naughty children.

 

* * *

 

He took her to a massive office building; somehow he knew all the passcodes. Did he work here, she wondered, and then her breath was taken away as he ushered her into a darkened room and she saw the view in the floor-to-ceiling window. London, spangled with lights in the night, glowing like a thousand galaxies embroidered into one.  
  
Ianto was standing close behind her now; she couldn't feel his groin, but his chest was brushing against her back.   
  
A clicking noise, and a tiny focused beam of light shone out of the darkness. It touched Donna's chin and immediately jerked down to her breasts, covered with a thin grey jumper. She looked down as Ianto's white hand rose and slid across her breasts, pressing them gently, feeling them rub against his palm, and when he took his hand away her nipples stood up in points against the silk knit.  
  
His voice was hushed in the dark. "There's a whole world of people out there. People we'll never meet, people whose lives will never touch ours. I think we should put on a show for then, just you and me."  
  
"Here?" Donna squeaked. "In front of-"  
  
"In front of the whole wide world, yes. And in front of them." His hand had returned to her breasts, pressing their undersides, feeling the weight of them, and then he put a slim pencil torch into her hand.  
  
She held it, and let the beam of light run down his chest, down his tie, down to his belt buckle. Her own hand moving on it, unbuckling, unzipping him, and then slipping inside and feeling him hot and steaming under her palm. She loved the feel of men through their clothes, loved imagining what was hiding there, waiting for her – and he was a fine one, she was certain of it.  
  
Ianto stepped away, and there was a dragging noise; he pushed something across the carpet to the window. She shone her light on the thing, or things: two well-padded leather chairs, facing each other now, with their sides against the window.  
  
Ianto's hands were both on her now, cupping her arse and pulling her against him, before they ran down the back of her legs and teased her knees below her skirt. He was kneeling to her, it made her weak just to think of it. Ianto's breath was hot through her clothes as he murmured, "Sit down."  
  
He slid her skirt up as she sat, and she felt cold leather on the backs of her thighs; she remembered the torch in her hand and raised it, shining it down her body to where Ianto's clever fingers were finding her wet panties and stroking them. With just his fingertips he touched her, letting the silky fabric ripple against her. The damp dark patch on the yellow satin was spreading as he caressed her. She was hot and wet and she raised her hips without words, raised herself before him, displaying herself in the circle of light.

He rolled her panties down her thighs, carefully peeling them off her feet, and then his mouth was suddenly on her, his tongue finding the almost invisible trail of red hairs down her belly and tracing it, down and over her, down and parting her, sliding inside and tasting her wetness, making her wetter. The light was tightly focused on just her flaming-red bush and his mouth buried in it; his upper lip curled against her and she shuddered all over, the light shaking in her hand.  
  
"Get up here," she urged him. "Here, hold the light for me and-"  
  
He rose, standing in front of her as she opened his clothes and found his erection, hard and waiting for her. It throbbed urgently in her hand, a hard pillar in the merciless light of the torch.   
  
Then she swore, wondering if her purse was in reach.  
  
'What's wrong?" he asked, husky-voiced with excitement.  
  
"No condom," she muttered.  
  
"Here," he said, pressing a familiar rolled shape into her palm. "Use this. Put it on me with your mouth. I want to see your mouth on me."  
  
She unrolled it carefully over the hard throbbing head of his cock; she could see nothing but her hands and his cock. She imagined all those late-night office workers and bored janitors looking out their windows and seeing: her red-lipsticked mouth, his hard cock, and now her mouth on him, feeling him, letting her tongue raise him to the roof of her mouth and then rubbing him on both sides at once. He wasn't too long or too thick; he was, in fact, a perfectly delightful mouthful, and she sucked him with hot enthusiasm, delighting in how hard he grew, the little guttural moans he let out.  
  
Then she pulled back for air and saw something greenish in front of her eyes. She looked at it, and then up at Ianto's dimly lit face. "Does this-"  
  
He turned off the torch, and the green glow burst forth.  
  
Donna nearly laughed herself sick. A glow in the dark condom. Of course.  
  
"Leave the light off," she ordered, and then sucked him in hard, hard, imaging the green glowing shaft vanishing and reappearing in the window. How many people were watching them right now? They had seen breasts, mouths, hands, but no faces. She might pass a man tomorrow who was jerking off to her right now, face rigid and fingers tight on his cock, seeing that tiny green pulsating line in the dark and knowing what it meant. A woman might be fingering herself now, watching and wishing that she was in Donna's place.  
  
She took the torch from Ianto's fingers and directed it at her wet crotch, and he knelt between her legs and rubbed the head of his cock up and down her furrow, over and over, getting himself wet, slipping a little way in and then pulling out. Teasing her, tickling her, until she drove her heels into his arse and he buried himself deep inside her. Oh, this was good. She shone the light on his pumping arse, imagined it bobbing in the darkness; she held it under her chin as they kissed and laughed at their faces turned into monster grimaces by the beam; and she turned it off and worked at him, muscles clenched, the green glow between her thighs appearing and disappearing as he thrust into her.  
  
He came first, loud and hard, and then his hand dove between them. She shone the light there and watched his fingers tickling at her distended flesh, rubbing her clit, frothing in her red hair, working at her until she came as well.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, a very hung-over woman named Nerys dug up her mobile from under a pile of clothing, frowned at the displayed message time and number, and then played it.  
  
The giggling voice of Donna – it would be Donna, she sounded drunk as a fish as well – with the pounding noise of a band behind her. "Oi! Nerys! Jus' wanted to let you know that I've met a bloke at a bar, and we're goin' off to do some kinky stuff in private. Really, really kinky stuff. His name's Ianto Jones from London, so's if you don't see me in a few days, just call the police, won't you, dear?"  
  
That last 'dear' cut like a knife, and Nerys nearly crushed her phone in rage. How was she going to manage to top this adventure?


End file.
